And fure there feem, of human kind, To foothe the certain ills of life; Grace its lone vales with many a budding rofe, Call forth refreshing fhades, and decorate repofe. From plains and woodlands; from the view Smit with the glare of rank and place, And emulous of nature's pow'r,-. And warp'd the very foul 1 Awhile her magic ftrikes the novel eye, Where groves. Where all is wonderous, all is bright: Now landed on fome fpangled fhore Awhile each dazled maniac roves By faphire lakes, thro' em'rald Paternal acres please no more; Adieu the fimple, the fincere delightTh' habitual fcene of hill and dale, The rural herds, the vernal gale, The tangled vetch's purple bloom, The fragrance of the bean's perfume, Be theirs alone who cultivate the foil, And drink the cup of thirst, and eat the bread of toil. But foon the pageant fades away! Of native groves, and wonted ftreams, Then hither oft ye fenators retire, With nature here high converse hold; VOL. I. I Beneath Beneath the British oak's majestic fhade, Honour, and moral beauty fhine With more attractive charms, with radiance more divine. Yes, here alone did highest heav'n ordain The great, the various, and the fair, Her impulfe nothing may reftrainOr whence the joy 'mid columns, tow'rs, 'Midft all the city's artful trim, To rear fome breathlefs vapid flow'rs, Or fhrubs fuliginously grim: From rooms of filken foliage vain, To trace the dun far diftant grove, Where fmit with undiffembled pain, The wood-lark mourns her abfent love, Borne to the dusty town from native air, To mimic rural life, and foothe fome vapour'd fair. But how must faithless art prevail, For For dimpled brook and leafy grove, From these impartial heav'n demands To fift opinion's mingled mass, Impress a nation's taste, and bid the sterling pass. Happy, thrice happy they, Whofe graceful deeds have exemplary fhone Who bands of fair ideas bring, To join their pleasing dreams! Theirs is the rural blifs without alloy, They only that deserve, enjoy. What tho' nor fabled dryad haunt their grove, Nor naiad near their fountains rove, Yet all embody'd to the mental fight, [brow, Shall twine triumphant palms to deck the wanderer's And though by faithless friends alarm'd, Art have with nature wag'd prefumptuous war; By SEYMOUR'S winning influence charm'd, In whom their gifts united shine, No longer shall their counsels jar. Near PERCY-lodge, with awe-ftruck mien, ; Nature exalt the mound where art shall build Art shape the gay alcove, while nature paints the fie Begin, ye fongsters of the grove! -Peace to the ftrepent horn! Let no harfh diffonance difturb the morn, Unless her candour not exclude The lowly fhepherd's votive strain, Who tunes his reed amidst his rural chear, Fearful, yet not averfe, that SOMERSET fhould hear. ODE |